


Baltimore

by Zoadgo



Series: Kinktober 2018 [17]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, Dom/Sub universe, M/M, collaring, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: The world before Exy was strictly divided, the division so ingrained in society that no one ever thought to question it. Dominants and submissives, their status as such determined by genetic markers and declared by visible tattoos in either red or black respectively, would rarely interact with anyone of the other class outside of a bond. Different schools and sports teams kept dominants and submissives separated, and subs in a claim never left their residence without their dom. The world said it was necessary, everyone had to be in a bond, and it only made sense for the parties lives to change after the claim was made valid. Dominants were too aggressive without a bonded sub and couldn’t be trusted to control themselves around unbonded submissives, and submissives were said to suffer illness without claiming a dom and could not possibly know their limits on their own.Exy said ‘fuck that’ and changed the world.





	Baltimore

**Author's Note:**

> universe inspired by [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/809809/chapters/1528720)  
> Alrighty, so! Today's Kinktober prompt called for **Collaring** and I started this fic like, at least two years ago? It's based on a tumblr thread, but yeah. I have no idea if this is good or not, but it's certainly done.
> 
> Eternal thanks to [Kai](http://twitter.com/kiterrax) for stepping in for my beta for the day ♥
> 
> [tumblr](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com)

The world before Exy was strictly divided, the division so ingrained in society that no one ever thought to question it. Dominants and submissives, their status as such determined by genetic markers and declared by visible tattoos in either red or black respectively, would rarely interact with anyone of the other class outside of a bond. Different schools and sports teams kept dominants and submissives separated, and subs in a claim never left their residence without their dom. The world said it was necessary, everyone had to be in a bond, and it only made sense for the parties lives to change after the claim was made valid. Dominants were too aggressive without a bonded sub and couldn’t be trusted to control themselves around unbonded submissives, and submissives were said to suffer illness without claiming a dom and could not possibly know their limits on their own.

Exy said ‘fuck that’ and changed the world.

From the start, Exy made it very clear that not only were they a coed sport in regards to sex, but also in regards to doms and subs. What someone did in regards to their own bond and in the privacy of their own bedroom didn’t affect how they played, the only reason most sports had divisions to begin with was because of the age old prejudice saying a sub couldn’t possibly be expected to face down a dom, even in regards to sport. Except they could and did in every Exy game. Subs even picked fights with doms, and they won or lost based on their own skill, not based on whatever genetics said they were destined to be.

The stigma was still there, and athletes were still receiving sponsorships based on their marks, visible to the world and influencing the public opinion of the players. So Exy not only allowed their athletes to cover their marks on and off the court, they encouraged it. Everyone was, of course, outraged, but in time it became common practice for the tattoos to be given to children wherever they pleased, not necessarily on their hands or faces. 

With the covering of tattoos came more changes to how easy it was to tell doms and subs apart. Prior to Exy, short term claims were denoted by cuffs worn by both parties involved, and long term claims were shown by a collar on the sub and a cuff on the dom. For the sake of the game, however, many subs even in long term claims began wearing cuffs matching their dom in order to avoid discrimination and potential risk of their collar getting grabbed in a fight and choking them. Because subs in long term claims were wearing cuffs, some doms began to wear collars, either for fashion reasons or because they wanted to show the world they were as bound to their sub as their sub was to them.

Given these changes it became almost impossible to determine if someone was a dom or a sub just by looking at them, and Neil Josten’s father must have been absolutely thrilled. Not for himself, of course, because Neil’s father had proudly marked most of his visible skin with curling designs in the brilliant ‘dominant’ red, but for his son. His son who had been born to a perfect submissive mother and took after her far too much. Not in looks or personality, but in the black tattoo barely visible on his spine.

Not that Neil had ever seen any of sign of pleasure from his father towards his submissive son. Neil can only imagine that the changes Exy brought to the world saved his life, because no way in hell would the Butcher of Baltimore have allowed the world to know his son and heir to his empire of crime was a submissive. So his life was spared because his natural need for submission was concealed from the world, but he wasn’t permitted to enjoy it. His father beat him and mother relentlessly, and both of them hated the fact that they needed it. That even as he was burning their flesh and marking their skin, the part of them that made their tattoos black was enjoying someone else being in control.

The only refuge that Neil and his mother had from Neil’s father and from their own self loathing was Exy. Even as a kid, Neil’s life was little league Exy. It was the only place he could be himself, the only place that his genetic markers didn’t matter. On the field, he didn’t feel the need to submit, and he could be as violent as even his father would like. It was a counterbalance to the total submission faced in the Butcher’s house, a small glimpse of a life where Neil could be free and his mother would smile and cheer him on. 

One day, that was torn away from him as his mother took him and some money in the middle of the night, fighting her natural instinct and years of conditioning to fight back against his father. Neil had to change who he was frequently, sometimes being a young dom and sometimes a sub, names and mannerisms and lives slipping by with each town they passed through. Neil’s life with his mother became a constant fight, and Exy was a risk that couldn’t be taken.

When Neil’s mother died, he couldn’t resist it anymore. Exy had a pull on him stronger than any dom he’d ever met. It was his life, his all consuming passion, feeling to him exactly as people described bonds strong enough to be for life. Even when it threatened his life, bringing the young runaway into the spotlight as he got drafted by Palmetto State, Neil couldn’t leave Exy. It had a collar on him, heart and soul, and Neil loved every second he could spend with the sport.

Neil had never planned on taking a dom, and not just because he couldn’t risk that attachment while on the run. He didn’t want to give any person that much power over him, didn’t want anyone being in control of him. Although Neil may have been born a submissive, that didn’t mean he was obedient. In his mind, a dom could only be like his father, violent and demanding total power over all aspects of his sub’s life, and Neil had no interest in acquiescing to that.

After his mother died he had to spend time around doms, without her to run interference between them. Most doms ignored Neil or had hidden marks, and as such his preconceptions remained unchallenged. Until Neil met Andrew, that is. Andrew, who should have confirmed Neil’s fears with his red tattoos peeking from behind black armbands, with his violent past and control issues. But for all that, Andrew was nothing like Nathan Wesninski.

Neil could understand Andrew, and even control him to a certain extent. It wasn’t really control like the others on the team thought it, or like Neil understood the term, but he could reason with Andrew and bargain for information and favours. In that, Neil felt safer around Andrew, and something deep within him that had been ignored for a long time began responding. It saw Andrew’s fierce protection, the way he would kill or die for those in his “family”, and it wanted that and more. Neil felt his submissive instincts awakening and begging to be put on their knees long before he even trusted Andrew.

It should have terrified him, but with every stupid decision Neil had made up to and including joining the Palmetto State Exy team, indulging those feelings didn’t seem that bad. He hid them from the world, but he didn’t deny them in his own mind. And then Andrew offered him that protection, after Neil told him some of his story. He promised to keep Neil safe from the most terrifying men Neil had ever known, and Neil couldn’t refuse if he’d tried. 

As Neil’s life became, impossibly, more dangerous, Andrew was always there. When Neil’s life was threatened and his team attacked, Andrew kept him safe. Neil loved having Andrew as a constant, as something he could rely on to provide him with exactly what he needed, but he knew even Andrew could not keep him safe from everything coming for Neil. Turning down Andrew’s protection in order to sacrifice himself to Riko for the sake of his team was one of the hardest things Neil had ever done.

Riko could have been similar to Andrew, in another life. They were both possessive, Riko marking “his” court to ensure no other team or dom would mess with them, and certainly had violent tendencies in spades. But in Riko’s cruel care, Neil found everything he’d feared in a dom, where with Andrew he found everything he desired. As Riko tortured Neil, Neil thought of Andrew. Andrew was what pulled him through, what allowed him to live with himself at the end of the day. After all, even the vicious form of dominance Riko exerted over Neil was in part what his genetics craved, and Neil hated that with every fiber of his being that wasn’t enjoying it.

After being released by Riko, but not without a mark to carry for the rest of his life from the ordeal, Neil’s first thoughts were of Andrew. Hoping that it had been enough, hoping that his sacrifice had meant Andrew was safe. Neil wanted to protect Andrew from Riko’s threats as Andrew had once done for him. It was a burning need within him, only made stronger by his time spent with Riko, a certainty in his soul that Andrew was his dom, and that he needed to protect, support, and please him.

Without any imminent threats looming, at least until the final game of the season, Neil grew even closer to Andrew. He still kept his feelings to himself, not wanting to verbalize them and make them real, but Andrew apparently had no such qualms. A casual comment dropped at a nightclub, and suddenly Neil’s desires could become reality. They didn’t, at first, Neil having no idea how to go about the situation, but when Andrew finally kissed him it felt like home in a way nothing save the Exy court ever had.

Like a joint being relocated, every development in their relationship was painfully perfect to Neil. It wasn’t everything he dreamed of, not at first, but both of them needed to take it slow. It was understood without being said, so Neil throttled his urge to ask for a cuff or a collar from Andrew and contented himself with every possessive touch, every rough scrape of teeth and bruising kiss. Everything they did was perfect and only made Neil want more.

And then it was almost stolen from him by the man that Neil feared more than anyone. His father. Neil knew the attack was coming shortly before it did, and once again he pushed Andrew away in order to save him and the team. Neil gave himself up to his father’s people in order to protect them all, and knowing they would be safe after he died was all that let him face the fate he knew was waiting. He took every wound that was given to him as well as he could, knowing the twisted cruelty of his father’s lackies was nothing compared to what he would face from the man himself.

Through a blush of fate, Neil survived, although severely wounded and now in the eyes of the FBI. It didn’t matter to him that he might go to prison or just ‘disappear’, not if he got to see Andrew one more time. He needed to know Andrew was okay, needed to know that the fool hadn’t done something stupid and ruined the chance at life that Neil had sacrificed himself in order to earn for him.

When Neil did get to see Andrew again, he knew he couldn’t disappear. Sure, Neil Josten was just a shell he’d created to hide his birth identity, but it was more real now than Nathaniel Wesninski ever had been. Neil couldn’t change who he was again, he couldn’t leave this. Not the team who were willing to fight the government for him, not their coach who had given Neil so many chances and always had another ready to hand out, and certainly not Andrew. No way in hell was Neil leaving his dom.

It was only after that, when Neil was as safe as he’d ever been and his relationship with Andrew became far too real to ignore for the both of them, that Andrew properly dominated Neil for the first time. It wasn’t a full scene, planned out in meticulous detail and drawn out for the satisfaction of both parties, but it was what they needed. Andrew giving Neil commands, Neil on his knees - on a cushion, of course, Andrew was ever mindful of his injuries - pleasing Andrew exactly as he was instructed to. In return, Andrew cared for Neil without needing to be asked, checking his injuries and taking great care with bandaging them and helping Neil in his physiotherapy.

Andrew’s praise for Neil in their little half scenes never came in words, and Neil didn’t mind that. The gentle touches, exhausted embraces, and satisfied hums and grunts were far better than any words could ever be. Especially when Neil had heard those words before, twisted from their original intent by a sadist without reason, cooed to him with blades on his skin and heat crisping his flesh. No, the silence in the wake of their scenes was definitely better for Neil.

It’s in the aftermath of the final game of the season, when the horrors of Neil’s past are literally dead and the team can breathe once again, that Neil and Andrew actually have time to think about what they’re doing. They don’t talk about it, no more than a few passing words, but it’s known between them and among the team that they’re in a claim already, simply without a cuff or collar to make it official. As much as the runaway in Neil is still terrified of legal ties binding him somewhere, the rest of him yearns to at least have a cuff on his wrist showing that he is Andrew’s, just as Andrew would wear one that would proclaim he is Neil’s in the same right.

Thoughts of wearing something to bind him to Andrew are forefront in Neil’s mind after school breaks for the summer. It’s equal parts terrifying and thrilling, and as such is an easy subject to focus on with the memories of finals already fading. His mind is occupied with just that when he walks into the house in Columbia, graciously given to the couple for a week by Nicky who was stupidly happy for them and desperately wanted their claim to work in the long run. Neil had no doubts about that, but he wasn’t going to turn down a week alone with Andrew, where they might actually be able to engage in a full scene rather than stolen moments.

The path to the kitchen is familiar to Neil, as is the routine of restocking the fridge with just enough food to last them the week. There’s a certain comfort in the familiarity, and he tries not to think of the fact that not long ago, routine would have spelled death for him. Dark thoughts are dispelled by the sound of another key turning in the door that Neil had locked behind him moments ago, announcing Andrew’s return from whatever mysterious task he’d left on that morning.

Neil expects Andrew to come into the kitchen as he finishes stowing the last of the groceries, but he remains alone in the room. With the last of the cupboards closed, Neil seeks him out, curiosity gnawing at him. He’s not left with his inquisitive mind for long, however, as he finds Andrew in the living room, sitting on the couch. Neil walks in front of him and opens his mouth to ask what’s in the bags sitting next to Andrew, but Andrew holds up his hand.

“Stop.” The word falls from Andrew’s lips quietly, laden with command. “Kneel.”

It’s then that Neil notices the cushion on the floor by Andrew’s feet, and his heart beats faster as he obeys easily. He could have resisted if he wanted to, but this is Andrew, and Neil has never felt more safe than with him. Neil falls to his knees and bows his head, face inches from Andrew’s legs. Andrew grasps the back of Neil’s neck for a moment, a firm touch signaling his approval, before he brings Neil’s chin up so their eyes meet.

For all that Andrew looks bored with the proceeding, as he does with everything in life, Neil knows that’s not the case. Whatever Andrew has planned for him, Neil knows it won’t be boring in the slightest for either of them, and his submissive side aches for more than one command and a simple touch. But Andrew simply holds his gaze, hand resting on Neil’s jaw, not giving him more of the dominance and attention that he craves.

Neil is on the verge of begging for something more when Andrew takes his hand away from Neil’s jaw, and the loss of the simple touch is enough that Neil is certain in that moment that he’d be content with just that forever, if it only would be restored to him. He trembles slightly, not begging as much as he would like to, as Andrew reaches into the bag next to him. He pulls the object from the crinkling plastic impossibly slowly, but when it is revealed to Neil the wait is well worth it.

A collar rests in Andrew’s hands, and he sets it down on his legs in front of Neil. Black leather, plain and supple looking, with a simple clasp that Neil knows from his own research into the objects is a “sport safe” closure, designed to be secure unless enough force is applied that it would damage the wearer. He wants to touch it, to feel every inch of the material and to learn how it will look against his skin, but he keeps his hands at his sides by sheer force of will.

“It was the cheapest one in the store,” Andrew says, and Neil doesn’t even have to look up from the collar to know that he’s lying.

“It wasn’t,” Neil retorts without thinking, and Andrew simply hums noncommittally at that.

“Look at me.” 

An order from Andrew is the one thing, barring natural disaster, that could have torn Neil’s attention away from the simple leather band, and even so he does it reluctantly. Andrew undoes the clasp on the collar and places the leather around Neil’s neck, a pleased shudder running through Neil when it touches him, but he doesn’t fasten it. The band is softer than Neil had thought on looking at it, and he wants it to be closed around him, but he also wants Andrew to be the one that secures it at his throat.

“Neil Josten, I, Andrew Minyard, have fulfilled my duties as a dominant in filing for permanent claim status. If you accept this collar, you accept the contract and myself as your sole dom.” It’s obvious that Andrew is quoting some legal text, but Neil treasures the words nonetheless. These words, and his response, will bind him to Andrew, and Andrew to him. “Do you wish to enter a permanent claim with me?”

“Yes.” The word is slightly breathless from Neil, but it’s strong with his conviction that this is exactly what he wants and needs.

“You know most people would say you’re stupid for entering a bond with me,” Andrew idly states as if trying to convince Neil to change his mind, but he closes the clasp on the collar anyway and it feels so right that Neil can’t help but smile.

“Good thing I’m not most people.”

Andrew narrows his eyes, but he nods anyway. No outpouring words of love, no verbal confirmation that he wants and needs Neil the same way Neil does him; they don’t need any of that. They have their ‘yes’ and, although they’ve never needed it yet, their safeword. ‘Baltimore’. Those are the only words they really need, the bond between them is such that language fails to comprehend it.

Andrew leans back and pats his lap by way of command, Neil rushing to obey. He climbs into Andrew’s lap and leans in to kiss him, but Andrew places one hand in the center of his chest, holding him back. The touch aches with the thought that he might have done something wrong, but Neil knows that’s ridiculous. So he ignores that and simply sits on Andrew’s thighs, waiting patiently as Andrew grabs the other bag from the couch next to him.

This, he hands to Neil, and Neil pulls out a cuff in the same design as his collar; simple black leather, impossibly smooth in his hands. It’s sleek and understated, but the craftsmanship is impeccable. Neil closes his eyes, raising the cuff so he can inhale deeply the grounding scent of the leather. When he opens his eyes again, he catches Andrew staring at him with one of those inscrutable looks. The ones that mean he’s feeling something, and trying desperately not to show it.

“Andrew Minyard,” Neil begins the words that he knows he learned at some point in his life, but never thought he would get the chance to use, “I, Neil Josten, take you as my sole dom, and ask that you take me as your sole submissive. If you accept this cuff as a symbol of our permanent bond, you accept these terms.”

Andrew places his hand back on Neil’s chest, digging his fingers in. He nods, never dropping his eyes from Neil’s face. A shiver runs through Neil as he fastens the cuff around Andrew’s wrist, marking them for the world to see. Although there is no magic to the bond, as some fairy tales may say, it still feels like there is. The reaction of submissive to being so totally claimed, and that of the dominant to having something that belongs to them and only them, is an electric current, a live wire. Neil feels it acutely as Andrew drops his hand in order to place his touch on Neil’s hips.

This time, when Neil leans in, Andrew doesn’t stop him. Their lips meet with a burning intensity, their first kiss as a bonded couple. Andrew bites Neil’s lip, and Neil whimpers into it. It feels impossible, like the very first time Andrew had put him on his knees. Everything Neil had ever wanted, spread out in front of him, and he’s actually allowed to take it. Every horror that had lead them here, every scar on both of their bodies and minds, it doesn’t matter. Neil breathes deep, feeling the collar shift against his skin.

He rocks his hips down against Andrew and Andrew breaks away from his lips to suck in a breath as a hiss. Neil can feel Andrew hard beneath him, and growing harder with Neil’s movement. With any other dom, it would mean that Neil has a need to service them. But not with Andrew; it’s rare that Andrew has Neil interact with his pleasure in any way, and when he does, it’s only after a scene, outside of the constraints of dominant and submissive. Even though this hardly counts as a scene, Neil’s quite certain Andrew will ignore his own pleasure in favour of lavishing his attentions upon Neil.

“Stop that,” Andrew commands, and Neil obeys, holding still even though he aches to move against him. The corner of Andrew’s lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile that makes a thrill of satisfaction race through Neil.

Neil very carefully doesn’t move, placing his hands on Andrew’s shoulders and simply holding himself in place. It’s a struggle, because everything in him begs to touch his dom, to please him, to take him and-

Neil’s thoughts crash to a halt as Andrew palms him through his jeans, massaging Neil’s own erection. His breath stutters as Andrew undoes his fly, fishing him out of his pants and stroking him without any preamble. It’s like the first time they had done more than kiss; unpolished, but so incredibly perfect in the desperation of it. All senses focused simply on the touch of skin, the way Andrew’s hand feels enveloping him.

Neil chokes back a moan, biting on his lip to remain quite; an old habit of living in dorms. This becomes almost impossible as Andrew hooks a finger in Neil’s collar and tugs. It’s like being struck by lightning, or the flash and thwack as a ball lands in the goal lines during a game. Neil jolts, gasping, cock throbbing in Andrew’s grasp.

“Not today,” Andrew orders, much to Neil’s confusion. He blinks a few times, and Andrew looks at him with a gaze hotter than the midday sun, “You don’t have to be quiet today.”

With that, Andrew releases his collar, but he continues toying his fingers along the edges of it, stroking the skin that feels incredibly oversensitive there. He pumps his other hand along Neil’s length almost lazily, although Neil knows the action is anything but. Any time Andrew touches him, he’s thinking so much, constantly obsessing over the right way to interact with Neil’s body.

It’s all right as far as Neil is concerned. No matter what Andrew does, it feels incredible, especially this. The touch on his neck, the warmth of the leather, the twisting of Andrew’s wrist… It’s more than Neil can handle, especially with his submissive side so keyed up by the very act of being collared. He moans throatily, tilting his head back. Andrew makes one of those pleased grunts that say more than words ever could, and that proves to be his undoing.

Neil collapses against Andrew’s chest as he climaxes, his baggy shirt falling between them and catching most of his cum. His mind blanks for a moment with the orgasm; a gift from his dom, the one who collared him. Neil shivers, whimpering, and Andrew kisses his temple. His actions convey nothing but praise, and Neil relaxes as he breathes deeply.

After a moment, Andrew releases him, wiping his hand on Neil’s shirt, and Neil wrinkles his nose, “Really?”

“It was ruined anyway,” Andrew points out, “And besides, you need new clothes.”

He has a point, much as Neil hates to admit it. Granted, the thought of going shopping with Andrew, with their matching bond symbols on display, fills Neil with an emotion so powerful it nearly overwhelms him. Perhaps he might not hate it all that much.


End file.
